


Silhouettes

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Infinity War, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Sharing a Bed, monster hunters for hire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: Sif and Loki find that their skills are valuable and profitable across the universe.





	Silhouettes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainhookcaptainfreedom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhookcaptainfreedom/gifts).



> I was inspired by your prompt of Loki and Sif as monster hunters and sort of ran with it in a post-canon context. Set after Ragnarok and after Infinity War (and ignoring any implications and theories from the latter).

_A thousand silhouettes dancing on my chest_  
_No matter where I sleep, you are haunting me_  
  
_But I'm already there, I'm already there_  
_Wherever there is you, I will be there too_

_"Silhouettes" Of Monster and Men_

* * *

 

 

Sif wrapped her hands around the steering wheel of this small spaceship. She took a deep breath and glanced to her right. “Ready?”

Loki nodded, staring out the wide window before them, avoiding her gaze as the engine purred to life. “Undoubtedly.”

Her guts churned at his word. Doubt had plagued her the past few nights. Even as she guided the ship off of the ground and into the air, she felt a nagging feeling at the back of her skull, worry that she had made the wrong choice.

She tried not to glance down at Thor and Heimdall watching them leave from the lush green fields below. She’d told them of her desire only the night before, amid the still-ongoing celebratory feasts that all of Midgard, _Earth_ , had been partaking in after the fall of Thanos.

Norway, they’d called this place. The chosen land for her people to settle and for Thor to lead them as King and serve the entire planet as an Avenger.

Asgard is a people, they’d said. This land is our home now.

But something about it didn't sit with Sif. She’d lost so much in such a short time. Her queen, her king, her dearest friends. She thought she had lost _him_ too.

Something called her, setting her feet on this path. Perhaps it was sparked by the endless errands she had been running across the Realms, some part of her had taken to wandering. Thor had granted her wish, allowing her to take the speedy ship from his time on Sakaar. His only request that she return it before too long. That’s all she needed, she assured him. Just a few years, maybe a decade, just enough time to clear her head.

She had hardly faltered in her preparations aboard the ship when Loki’s long shadow had darkened the door. “Room for one more?” He had stood with hunched shoulders. Sif hadn’t said a word, just nodded towards the passenger seat.

Sif suspected Loki also did not feel wholly welcome on Earth. Even after the war against the mad titan that had at least partially redeemed his past transgressions against the human Realm. She doubted that he would be long at her side, anyway. The ship was likely just his opportunity to skip off to some other world and away from any lingering ramifications of the past few years.

When she’d seen him, four years after she had mourned his second death, her first reaction had been shock and disbelief. Her second, more lasting reaction, had been violent fury. For being deceived, betrayed, and abandoned. By the time his brother and hers had pulled her off of him, he was bleeding and bruised. She had landed at least a dozen good blows, dug her knife into his arm, and had spat in his face. Still not nearly enough to satisfy the need within her to make her anger fully and truly known. A need that was only slightly stronger than the one that begged her to fit her body against his in happy relief and unimaginable appetite.

But then there had been no time. The Cosmos had fallen around them and it took all her attention, strength, stamina, and the help of at least twenty extraordinary Midgardians to stop the madness. They had succeeded, and with Loki’s help, but the cost had been great.

She pushed a button and the ship launched them easily into overdrive, cutting through the atmosphere of Earth and zipping through the reaches of the solar system. Sif told herself that the shaking in her hands was only from the rattle of the wheel beneath their iron grip.

“Where to? Alfheim? Vanaheim?” His voice pulled her from the jumble of her thoughts. She shook her head curtly.

“No. None of the nine,” she stopped short. _Eight._ There are only eight now. She started again. “Nowhere that we’ve been before.”

She could not bear it. She knew those places would bring her nothing but memories of past adventures, the fun they had had soaring through the branches in the glow of the Bifrost’s pull.

His sidelong gaze made the hair on her arm stand up but she did not turn to face him. He nodded his head once. “Very well.”

He did not speak for the rest of their journey, and for that she was thankful. Although they always had complemented each other nicely; in battle, in the bedroom, that was _before_. Before his fall, his return, his usurpation, and his atonement.

Sif did not know this new Loki. The one who had tried to sacrifice himself to save Thor, save Asgard, save Earth. She was troubled by both the acute anger and the steady attraction she still held for him. She was not sure why she allowed him on the ship. And yet she felt she could not deny him.

It was long and late when she finally guided the ship onto the planet Centuri-Six, docking the spacecraft amongst a small spattering of other ships. The air was crisp and made their breath visible in the dark night air.

“Will this suit you, Prince?” Sif asked, righting her shield and her glaive and swinging her small pack, full of all her remaining belongings, onto her back and nodding towards the glow of a large manor down the woodend lane. Loki glanced up at the signage posted upon a gate nearby that read “Accommodations” in Centurii, the Allspeak translating for them.

“After you, Lady,” he swept an arm before himself. Sif pushed past, her gait steady as she headed towards the large house, past grand statues of noteworthy residents and beast, both real and fantastical, and up onto the porch with large white columns. Centuri-Six was a sparsely populated planet, their culture composed largely of philosophers and artists. _Peace_ , Sif thought.

A tall Centurii, her skin a pale yellow, greeted them and granted Loki’s request for two rooms. She led them up a spiralling marble staircase to their small suites, side by side in the long hallway. Sif did not pause to give her companion a farewell before slamming the door shut behind her.

_Alone._

With shaking fingers, she pulled the traveling cloak from her shoulders and let it fall to the cool stone floor. Her pack clanged with her beloved armor as she tossed it aside. She was laying her sword and shield upon the small bed when the emotions that she had worked so hard to suppress, surged in her chest, lapping against her ribs and constricting her heart. For a moment her vision swam, making her unsteady.

A sharp knock sounded at her door, startling her and she was grateful for the distraction. She shook her head, her high ponytail snapping like a whip at the motion, and beat a fist against her chest. _Keep it together_ , she chastised herself and gritted her teeth.

When she yanked the door open, more forcefully than necessary, Loki stood before her, his face guarded. He had changed from his dark traveling clothes into softer leathers of green and gold. “I thought perhaps you could do with a meal,” he lifted one hand towards her, palm up. “And a drink.”

Her fingers itched at the sight, but she stopped herself from fidgeting. Brusquely, Sif stepped past him into the hallway, ignoring his offered hand. “You’re buying.”

“Of course.” He said to her back, following her down the stairs and into the dining area, filled with a smattering of the manor’s guests.

She cared little for the meal, hardly tasting the foreign dish. The drinks, however; were more compelling. The syrupy sweet looking drink that Loki nursed made her grimace from their small table in the corner of the room. She did allow herself a moment to admire her own choice of liquor, a clear liquid with flecks of gold that glittered in the light of the high chandeliers. It had an almost punishing cinnamon sharp bite. After her fifth cup, the barkeep left the bottle on the table for her.

She said nothing during the meal, waving off his blase attempts at small talk. Every time he opened his mouth she felt her anger roiling inside of her. Eventually he gave up, but his gaze, wary, waiting, upon her made her skin prick up again. But she held her tongue, still.

Until she was sufficiently _drunk._

“Why are you here, Loki?” The words were spoken into her refilled cup. She didn’t slur, but the words felt slippery in her mouth.

“You’re the one who chose this planet, if you’ll recall,” he grinned, but it did not reach his eyes.

“You know what I mean. Why are you _here_ with _me_?” She finally looked at him. He spread his hands out before him.

“Where else could I go?”

“So you admit that you’re running,” she snorted into her glass before letting the liquor burn a path down to her gut. “Typical Loki.” His smile evaporated, replaced by an indignation that she could see building in his stiffened shoulders.

“Pardon me,” the acid in his voice was biting, “but I am not alone at this table, drinking myself into a stupor. I’m not the only one running. I’m not the only...” His voice stopped short, but the word hung unspoken between them. _Coward_.

The rage bubbled up and overtook, spilling out like the liquor sloshing onto the table as she slammed her glass down. “This is all _your_ fault!” She jabbed her finger into his shoulder, punctuating her words.

“Which part? I didn’t make you abandon your people.” He sneered and leaned closer.

Sif was nearly blinded with fury at his deflection. That was exactly what he had done to her. In her drunken state, she could not stop her mind from the way it flashed each horrible picture before her eyes. _Odin’s_ tasks for her over the past years, zipping across the branches on his pointless missions. The strange sensation she had felt, trekking across some Midgardian forest when all the hair had stood up on the back of her neck and she just _knew_ something was wrong. In desperation she had called to her cast-out brother, and through his golden eyes she’d seen glimpses of the horror, the slaughter, and the world-ending explosion. She had fallen to her knees, screaming her agony in those lonely woods, utterly alone.

“If you had not sent me away, I could have been there! I could have helped! I would have-” He caught her hand in his own before she could jab her finger into him again.

“You would be _dead_ , Sif.” His fingers tightened, burning against her skin. His face was flushed and his bright eyes bore into hers, imploring her to quiet. He was so close, she could see the creases and lines that were new to his face.

“And that would be preferable,” she snapped, leaning in so that her nose nearly touched his. “At least then I would be in glorious Valhalla with my _friends_ instead of stuck here with you.” Wrenching her hand from his grasp, she pushed away from the table and jumped up, only teetering slightly. She expected him to mirror her rage, to return any perceived insult with an even greater sting as he had always done in their youth. But he remained frozen at the table, his face pure misery.

She tried to ignore the way her heart stuttered at the sight, making her sway undecidedly for a moment, before grabbing the bottle of golden liquor from the table and fleeing to her room.

“Coward.” She hissed, but to whom she did not know. Tearing the cork from the bottle, she slammed the rest of her booze, relishing the burn it brought that briefly masked the burn in her eyes and in her heart. She could not stop these cursed emotions. The pain of the past few years, months, days, hours seemed to swallow her whole, stealing her breath away in an agonized gasp.

Hogun, Fandral, and even sweet Volstagg all dead. Einherjar slaughtered. Frigga, Odin gone. Her home destroyed and her people scattered. She swayed again with drink and ache, and the room seemed to blur.

Her hands searched for purchase, something to hold onto, and they found the back of the white stone chair. With a cry she lifted it and hurled the chair across the room, sending it with a deafening crash against the wall. A large crack appeared above the bed, but her anger was not soothed by the act, the violence, and she felt a trance-like fury overtake her like a berserker. Her fists, her feet pounded and smashed the furniture of the small room as the images of Ragnarok replayed again and again.

Loki must have heard the great crash from within Sif’s room as he passed by. Sif did not hear the sound of his knocking over the destruction of her room. The door was unlocked. Slowly he pushed it open and stepped inside. The small table flying towards his head knocked the door shut behind him and he had hardly a moment before she was on him. Her feet and fists rained down on him but he was quick and dodged the worst of them, parrying her blows.

Sif screamed, charging. It took her a breath to realize that Loki was not attacking, just deflecting. That only made her angier and she screamed her pain again. The look of misery flashed on Loki’s again and she stumbled, distracted. Loki seized the opportunity and grabbed her wrists, halting her assail.

All at once, Sif felt the energy and rage drain from her body, and her knees buckled. Loki caught her, gathering her into his arms and sinking to his knees with her. The space where her anger lived suddenly felt unbearably empty. It was too much.

Sif buried her face in his neck and for the first time, let the tears run hot.

 

She awoke to pounding in her head. Her whole body was stiff, reminding her how it felt after a long day spent in the training yards. The room was in disarray and utterly too bright and it hurt to open her eyes. With a groan, she lifted herself to sit and stretched.

A sudden movement out of the corner of her eye had her twisting beneath the sheets and launching the water glass from her bedside table in defense.

“Peace, woman!” Loki shouted as the glass shattered against the wall behind his head, sitting up in the small space of floor between the bed and the wall. Sif realized suddenly that he had slept there. He rubbed his eyes and grumbled. “At least let me eat to replenish my energy before you start that up again.”

“Stars, Loki,” she exhaled. “You startled me. What are you doing down there?”

“Making sure you didn’t choke on your own sick in the middle of the night,” he yawned. “And you asked me to.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. Had she asked him to stay? She honestly could not recall much from the previous night. But she refused to admit that, and refused to feel embarrassed about anything she may or may not have said. “Well don’t think that changes how I feel about you.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he hauled his long form off the cold marble floor, rolling his neck. “Now about breakfast...”

Sif had only eaten two plates worth of food, hardly even soothing the nausea of her stomach when a breathless local approached their table. “Asgardians! I heard a rumor that you were here.” He bowed low before them and Sif suppressed a smile at the way Loki’s eyebrows nearly left his face in surprise. “Please, I beg of you to give your assistance. We Centurii are a creative, peaceful people. We enjoy our sculptures and painting but the art of war is not our gift.”

“What sort of trouble do you seek assistance from, friend?” Sif asked.

“A dragon. Deep in the woods, near a great lake, it has made a cave its home. None can fish the nearby waters without facing the dragon’s wrath.” Sif pulled her eyebrows together in concern. She could practically hear Loki’s eyes roll in disinterest. Beneath the table she kicked him in the shin.

“The village has pooled our resources and we can offer you this,” the man bowed again and pulled a sack from his cloak. Sif could hear the significant amount of coins inside. “And our eternal gratitude.”

“We accept,” Loki said quickly and rose from the table.

“We?” Sif asked under her breath, rising to stand near him.

He leaned into her, his voice confidential so the Centurii could not hear. “I recall nothing was as good at curing your hangovers than a little bloodshed, Lady.”

Sif shrugged one shoulder in admission and tried not to smile.

“Plus,” he waved a hand, “the money.” Sif slid him a look. She still had the pouch she carried with her when she sent was from Asgard those years ago. How _did_ he pay for their rooms last night, considering most of their Realm’s wealth and finery blew up in a fiery explosion?

“Yes, we accept,” she turned back to their new employer with a smile.

The dragon was large, formidable, and quite cranky. It took no small effort from both Loki and Sif to confront the beast, but oh how battle made her feel so alive.

When they returned victorious to the manor, tossing the severed head of the wyrm onto the bar, it’s stinking blood sliding across shining marble, they smiled at each other.

Only hours later, when they were deep in their cups in celebration of their victory, someone else approached and propositioned their services on Achernon. Would they like to take care of a succubus for a handsome price?

And so it went.

Weeks passed, and then months. They spent their time traveling from planet to planet. It was not hard to find some monster that needed tending and their skills proved to be valuable and profitable.

 

* * *

 

 

Sif felt the satisfying pull of her blood-slicked sword dislodge from the fallen Cu-Sith, just one of the giant wolves that were terrorizing the craggy, fog drenched lands of this planet, when one of Loki’s knives went sailing over her shoulder. With a yelp, a wolf fell from the misty air and collapsed just feet from Sif, its giant paw aimed for her neck.

She whipped her gaze across the rocky field to Loki, his teeth were bared in a feral, self-indulgent grin and his hair was wild in the wind. Sif ignored the deep, animalistic pulse inside her that responded to his hungry eyes, his show of power.

“You’re welcome,” he purred. Sif spun her blade, shedding the steaming wolf blood into the grass. She took her bothersome passion, and turned it to familiar annoyance.

“Don’t think that makes up for anything,” she glared at him.

“Keeping score, are we?”

“Yes,” Sif grunted, slashing at the next beast that lunged out of the mist. “And you are still operating at a loss.”

“What, exactly,” he asked with gritted teeth, driving his blade into the back of the wolf’s head, “Are you not letting me atone for?”

“You know damn well,” she stepped over the carcass and jutted her shield against his chest. “You kept me from my sworn duty. You robbed me of my glory!”

“Another!” Loki called, stepping around her to throw green magic at the next foe, the same instance a large wolf charged from the opposite side. Sif covered his back and the beast met its demise at the tip of warrior’s blade. They stood back to back for a moment, shoulders bumping as they regained their breath. Loki spun to face her. He pushed his hair back from his face, the dark green Cu-Sith blood seeping into his locks, and shook his head.

“There are many things that I would undo if given the chance.” His gaze burned into her, some anguish flitting across his face. “Assuring your survival is not among them.”

“It should not have been your choice to make, to take that from me.” Sif pointed her blade at him. Loki spread his open palms and shrugged.

“If you’re looking for an apology, for keeping you alive, I won’t give it.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” she sighed.

Loki turned from her, then laughed over his shoulder, “I do.” His daggers whistled before finding purchase in the throats of two more wolves.

“Good aim.” She wiped her brow and surveyed the fallen pack. “The howling has stopped. Think that was the last of them?”

“Let’s hope so. Compliments on your sword-work, Lady.” He bowed towards her before leaning down to retrieve his blades. She scrutinized him for a moment.

“Why _did_ you send me away?”

He pulled a cloth from his sleeve, cleaning his weapons and avoiding her gaze. “You’ve always been perceptive Sif. If there was anyone I was certain would see through my disguise it was you. Well,” he paused and waved a hand, “You and your meddlesome brother.”

She tried not to smile at the truth of his words. She always could recognize his masks as the fakes they were. And it had seemed easier to spot the closer they had become, more intimate, as if a part of her had some unconscious perception of his magic, of his essence. The reflection made her heart constrict suddenly.

“Why are you here Loki?” She tried to keep the sadness, the longing for less complicated days, out of her voice.

“I was under the impression that we were tasked with eradicating these hellhounds,” he gestured at their carnage.

“You know what I mean.”

Slowly he crossed the field back towards her. She just barely heard him sigh over the wind. Holding the cloth between two fingers, he offered it to her, his other hand lifting to touch her upper arm carefully. The gentle contact sent a shock through her and then a pang of sadness; the gesture reminded her of Frigga. “I want to be here.”

She took the cloth and wiped the blood from her face, thanking him. She did not know what to make of his words, the confusing feelings they sprung within her. So she punched him on the arm and said, “Ah, yes. The gold is very enticing.” He gave her a bewildered look.

“You are utterly vexing sometimes,” he shook his head.

 

* * *

 

 

The waters of the mountain lake on Tsorcherhi were steaming and emerald in the setting sun. Sif licked her fingers, savoring the last of the meat she had roasted over their campfire. She sighed contentedly from the log she was perched upon on the rocky lake shore and wiped the lingering grease from her hands into her trousers. She did not miss Loki’s revolted observation from his seat beside her.

“Well, that meal may not have been extravagant enough for your spoiled, princely tastes, but I quite enjoyed it.”

“Indeed, nothing can beat the feasts that came from Asgard’s royal kitchens.” He made a show of retrieving his silk cloth and haughtily wiped the grease from his own long finger. ”But it was delicious nonetheless.”

“Mmm yes I would kill for some toscakaka.” Her mouth watered at the thought of the caramel almond cake. “What do you miss the most?” she asked suddenly. “From home?”

Loki turned his gaze from the fire to the emerging stars above them, pondering. For a moment, she thought that he meant to ignore her question until he finally pronounced, “My books.”

“Not your giant, narcissistic statue?” she teased and didn’t try to hide her grin. He rolled his eyes from the skies to level her a petulant glower.

“No.” He made a face and grumbled, “Although I don’t see why that is any more conceited than the endlessly repeated, not to mention wildly exaggerated, tales of glory you inflicted upon the Realm over the centuries.”

Sif threw a rock at him. He waved it off easily. “Ass.”

“And you? What do you miss, Lady?”

 _Us_ , she thought. But said, “You’ll think me silly and vain.”

“Well, you did just accuse me of loving my own image most of all, so fair is fair.” He leaned forward, the sharp lines of his cheeks throwing shadows in the firelight. “Now, out with it.”

“My hair combs,” she admitted, thinking of the one she wore on a winter’s eve, taking a drink with Thor. Of the one she wore to Loki’s funeral feast...

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. Not quite shock, almost sympathy, tenderness warmed his face. The heat of a blush stained her cheeks, like a foolish young maiden. His words held no mocking though. “Truly?”

Sif nodded, finding it hard to meet his gentle gaze. His voice was soft over the crackle of the fire. “Strange, the things that grow to be most treasured in our hearts.”

“Even when we wish them not to,” she breathed.

She bravely met his eyes fully. A bolt of electricity ran through her when his little finger brushed against the skin of her hand, next to his on the wooden log. Her heart was suddenly thumping at the way Loki’s eyes flickered down to her lips and then back up with a fiery intensity. Her body swayed, leaning towards him, as the sun totally set around them.

At that moment, the heavy steps of mountain trolls sounded across the waters, making Sif jump and pulling them from their shared gaze. Sif snatched her hand out from under his in her alarm. Loki’s shoulders slumped slightly.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sif stood up suddenly and reached her hand towards him. “Adventure calls. Shall we?”

He stared at her proffered hand for a moment and then smiled, taking it firmly in his. “Yes, let’s.”

 

* * *

 

 

One significant downfall of a universe without the Bifrost was that Loki and Sif often found themselves stuck on planets for longer than expected. So it went on world of Ergonar, which was made up of ice and mountains and not much else.

Sif realized once she guided the ship onto the planet, looking out the window at the large mountain that rose high above them that the journey to the small village of Alyrne at the summit would take up significantly more time than anticipated.

Without the Bifrost to aid their travels, they had grown used to hiking long distances to reach their destinations. Sif had come to appreciate the way her body had adapted to its new demands, reaching a fitness level that was different than what she’d strived for in the Asgardian training yards. But no less powerful.

Their foot travels had afforded them many wondrous sights on many strange distant planets. Sif had found beauty and approval of most lands, although some had been more distasteful. She had thought that she’d found the most unlikable place in the universe on that one world that was comprised of stinking noxious gas, until she lost her footing and slid at least a hundred yards down this particular steep mountain trail for the sixth time.

“Thrice damned snow!” she shouted, kicking a sapling that clung to the edge of the cliff face, sending its snow cover tumbling into the darkness.

A raven soared and circled above her, coming to land softly on the snow ground among the trees. With a flash Loki transformed back into his own long form, pulling his fur and feather cape tighter around his neck against the wind. He peered at her snow-caked hair but said nothing about it.

“The village is just over the next crest, less than an hour’s journey. I’m anxious for a warm bed,” he turned and walked lightly up the icy path. “If you’re finished assaulting the vegetation.”

Sif huffed, brushing herself dry. “Show off. Why don’t you turn into a horse and let me ride you up the mountain?”

“Please, Sif.” She tried not to roll her eyes at the way he put a hand over his chest as though scandalized. “You are a Lady. Just because we are far from Asgardian court, let’s not lose our decorum.”

“You blew up our court,” she grumbled under her breath but followed him up the trail.

When they finally scrabbled their way over the last ridge, the sight of the glittering village tucked into the steep hillside nearly took Sif’s breath away. The entire village seemed to be out, wandering the warmly lit paths that were strung in ribbons and tree boughs. Apparently they had arrived during a celebratory time, something akin to Yule.

They wandered down a lane, coming upon a large square that held a busy marketplace, vibrant and alive on the cold night. The wafting smells of spice and warm foods compelled Sif forward into the bustling crowd.

“Come on Loki, your bed can wait a bit longer.”

“Very well,” Loki sighed deeply but Sif wasn't fooled by the show of it. She saw him eyeing a stall that had tables full of knives on display. “I suppose we have to pass this way to find lodging anyway.”

She charged into the crowd, forgetting her earlier frustration with this snowy planet. She flitted between stalls that called to her, picking up unusual metalworks and sticking her fingers into cages that held unfamiliar animals. Loki was more meticulous, walking by each stand and appraising their wares with a discerning eye.

It wasn't long before the pockets of Sif’s traveling cloak were shoved full of candies and cakes, paid for with their shared gold. She felt a high, sipping warm spiced drinks, bartering and bantering with the friendly locals dressed in furs and wearing crowns made of tree boughs. It brought her a sort of nostalgia for Yuletide and excitement of lively winter festivities, even though this world was not her own.

Shoving a warm pastry into her mouth, she froze and turned towards a small booth stacked with papers. The familiar runes made her pause. She swallowed her mouthful roughly. She knew this book, could read this language without any focus or assistance from the Allspeak.

Quickly she looked over her shoulder, searching. Loki was paused at a booth tucked into a small alleyway and she could just see him over the crowd, speaking with a man and gesturing pointedly. Too far away to hear the content of their discussion, she saw the seller point to a box. Loki picked it up, inspecting. He nodded curtly and reached in his cloak for his payment.

She turned back to the woman behind the book stand, throwing gold coins her way and hurriedly snatching the novel. Usually she would have bartered and fought over price, but she hardly had time to shove the book into her cloak before Loki was at her side.

“Find something you like?” he asked, looking at her hands tucked into the cloak.

Sif pulled a slightly squished, but still perfectly edible cookie from her pocket and offered it to him. She couldn’t help but laugh at his unmistakable look of utter disgust.

“Charming,” he sneered.

“Come on, prince.” She popped the baked good into her own mouth and linked her arm in his in a cheerful gesture that almost surprised herself. The holiday spirit really was quite infectious. “Let’s get you that bed.”

When they finally found the little stone cottage that served as the village’s only inn, they were informed, due to the holiday festival bringing extra tourists, there was only one room available. The kind old woman behind the desk assured them that there was no other lodging on this particular mountain and Sif was not keen on the thought of trekking back down to the cold ship.

They accepted the singular key and made their way up the creaking stairs. Sif realized that when the woman described the room as cozy, what she really meant was tiny. The room held only a fireplace, a night table, and a single bed. A bed that looked as if might break under the weight of two bodies.

“I could sleep on the floor. You already did that once,” she offered, trying not to think about what came before that night, the way he had held her in his arms.

“Nonsense.” Loki pushed into the room and took his cloak off with a flourish. “Left side is mine.”

“Yes, I know,” she drawled. “Some things never change.”

Loki smiled but Sif suddenly felt frozen, unbidden memories of all the times they had lain together springing to her mind. The different kind of strain they would have put on a bed this size in the past. She was thankful when Loki took leave of the chambers to find the shared washroom down the hall.

She could handle this, she told herself, pacing the small room. Why was she so nervous? It was not as if she hadn’t done this before, faced challenges greater than sharing a bed with a former lover.

Something caught her eye, halting her agitated stide. A small box sat upon the right pillow, her side. Cautiously, she picked it up, turning over a tag to find her name written in Loki’s script. Something about the careful scrawl made her heart pound as she opened the lid. Inside a bed of velvet sat a hairpin. The silver was curved and swirled into a flowing design that the accompanying thin metal rod could be slid into. She ran her finger across the cool metal and smiled. It was lovely.

“Your turn,” Loki’s voice sounded from the doorway. She spun, clutching the box to her chest. His long hair was damp and his torso was bare in only his soft night trousers. A blush warmed her cheeks. His gaze fell to the box in her hands and he did not lift his eyes when he asked, “Do you find it suitable?”

Sif could only nod. How could she find the words to say how affected she was by the gift?

“I have something for you too,” she rummaged through her discarded cloak, pulling out the book and shoving it into his hands. She watched his face, brows drawn together in confusion for a moment and then raised in happy surprise.

“This is from Asgard!” He ran his fingertips reverently across the cover of the children’s book. “Mother used to read tales from this to Thor and I each night.”

“Do you like it?” She asked in a tone that was a bit more wishful than she intended.

He raised his eyes to hers and nodded slowly. “I’m touched.” His long hand brushed her arm, sliding up across her shoulder, her neck, to rest on her cheek. She tried not to gasp at the warmth that filled her in that moment. “Thank you, Sif.”

Her eyes slid shut and she leaned into his familiar touch for a moment, before suddenly turning and retreating from the room.

Sif took her time in the washroom, sinking deep into the tub and meticulously scrubbing at her skin. As she dragged the cloth along her body, different than it was in her youth but still strong, she thought of Loki. He was different too. Still cunning and agile, but slower to anger and take offense. She thought of them together, both in the past and on this planet. They had been through so much, both given pieces of themselves. She wondered if they would still fit together.

When she returned to her, their, room, a small fire burned in the fireplace. Loki was sitting up in bed, his legs stretched under the covers and his book held up in his hands. Sif kneeled down and spoke to the Warriors Three; offering up her prayers to and asking for favor in the hunt tomorrow.

“Do you always do that?” Loki asked quietly, not taking his eyes off of the book.

“Most nights.”

“Hmm.”

“Would you like to join in a prayer for Frigga?” She saw him stiffen, and felt the grief that passed on his face.

“Perhaps another time,” he murmured and flicked a page in the book.

Rising from the floor, Sif lifted the sheets. She tried her absolute best to not touch Loki. She mostly succeeded in the small space. She settled onto her back and spoke to the ceiling.

“I did it for you too,” Sif practically whispered. “Spoke to you. Both times, both deaths. Sometimes it was offering a blessing, and sometimes it was a curse. I was angry and hurt, but I missed you.” _I still miss you._

Slowly, Loki closed the book before him. He turned and then leaned over, reaching over her to place the storybook onto the nightstand.

“I missed you, too,” Loki whispered looking into her eyes and bracing himself above her. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body. His hair, still damp and curling, hung like a curtain around his face. “More than I could ever say.”

Sif reached a hand up, brushing the hair from his temple to tuck it behind his ear. She could hardly breathe at his nearness, the way his eyes shone with a sincerity and longing, and suddenly it was too much.

As if burned, she snatched her hand away and flipped herself onto her side. “We should get some rest,” she said too loudly. She could kick herself. “Big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

She felt Loki’s confused pause and cursed herself. “Of course.” He turned towards the wall, matched her position with his back to hers. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered and blinked the stinging tears from her eyes. She held herself still, aware of the nearness of his body and of her own foolish heartbeat, and accepted that she would get not sleep this night given the way her mind tried to puzzle out his words, his intentions and her own.

 

 

The entire village was present around the large bonfire that now filled the town square. Sif wasn’t quite sure if the celebration was part of their winter rituals or if it was entirely in hers and Loki’s honor over another successful battle.

Sif had drank a fair amount in festivity but her skin buzzed with something more than that. Loki moved around the square, accepting gifts and praise from the locals with a happy smile. The way the flickering light of the bonfire caught the angles of his face made her heart stutter, and she thought of his face above hers in their firelit room last night. She touched the metal pin that secured part of her hair at the back and sighed.

As if sensing her gaze, Loki turned to look at her. Still smiling, he made his way through the crowd to join her at the edge of the square, leaning against an old stone building.

“I have no idea how we’re going to fit all these treasures in the ship,” Loki made a movement and magicked the gifts away to join the rest of their loot. “Having fun?”

“Why are you here Loki?” She could not stop herself from asking. If he thought her deflection odd, he did not show it.

“I was under the impression we were after that abominable Snömannen that was feasting on the goats and children of the villagers.”

“You know what I mean.”

He searched for words, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. His fingers picked at his palm.

“Sif, please,” he shook his head unhappily. He looked vulnerable, almost pained. Sif thought back to the previous night, her confession that he had hurt her, the way he had looked at her after, in the bed.

“If you’re still here for some misguided penitence,” Sif waved her hand between them, “for all the wrong you’ve done to me, I have forgiven you.”

“When?” He slid his gaze over her, dubious.

“Five, maybe six planets ago.” She thought a moment. “Before those draugrs, but after the kraken.”

“Huh,” Loki looked genuinely surprised, letting his head fall back against the stone wall behind them.

“How long _have_ we been away from...” she faltered. “How long have we been gone?”

Loki pondered for a moment, looking up at the dazzling, unfamiliar stars above them. “It’s a bit hard to keep track, given every planet seems to measure time differently, but...nearly 47 years?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Thor’s going to kill me.”

“Are you anxious to return?”

Sif lowered her hands and shook her head. “I’m growing quite fond of this planet.”

“We could stay here, you know.” He gestured towards the celebrations before them. “This could be home.”

“We?”

“If you wish it, I would stay.”

“Why are you here, Loki?” she whispered, desperate. He looked at her as if she was crazy, and indeed she felt like she might be.

“Do you truly not know by now? After all these years, all this time? Or must I say it aloud?”

“I think you must. For the reason I wish is absurd and implausible.”

He pulled away from the wall and stood before her. With a slow movement he reached up to touch her hair pin, then cradled the back of her head in his hand. Sif’s heart jumped.

“I love you, Sif. I’ve always loved you. Even when it was unbearable and maddening and easy to mistake for loathing.”

She gripped his tunic, her hand fisted above his heart, her other arm snaking around his back, and pulled him closer. Slowly, she pushed her warm lips against his, kissing him deep. He did not hesitate, stepping forward to push her back against the wall. She poured all of her passion, her anger, forgiveness, and love into the kiss and let her body melt against his. Loki’s teeth scraped at her lip then his tongue caressed the wound. His kisses were both the softest and fiercest she had known, making her dizzy. It had been so long and she needed so much.

Sif took him back to their small room, into their small bed. They moved, warm hands and mouths frantic and needy, against each other. Later, it was slower; time taken in exploring and relearning these new selves. There was thrill in the familiar and the new and it was near dawn when they finally slept, curled around each other.

A few days later, walking among the crowd that bid them farewell, they made their way back to their ship. Sif placed a steady hand on the steering wheel and started the engine.

“Ready for our next adventure?”

“Oh yes,” he agreed and reached to take her hand. Sif pointed the ship back towards Earth, and Asgard, happy to be home.


End file.
